


good days / safe to take a step out

by montreal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Daddy Will Graham, Hurt/Comfort, Little Hannibal Lecter, Little Space, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montreal/pseuds/montreal
Summary: It’s been a while since the last time Hannibal had become a little.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	good days / safe to take a step out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adavice](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavice/gifts).



> Prompt from [my darling!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavice)
> 
> I had so much fun writing this (probably too much) because little Hannibal is such precious and cute baby boy and I just want people to write more little Hannibal fics! Also, I do not really put the setting for this one, so this could be Post-Fall or well, whatever you want to put it. The title itself is from Good Days by SZA because I have been listening to that song while writing this and also I am bad at giving titles (sometimes it only ended up cringey as hell) but anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this one!

It is near afternoon, when Hannibal feels the itch start clawing inside his chest, drawing out a whine from his vocal cord.

During the last couple of weeks, he has been waiting for the perfect time to be a little, to finally put his mind at ease; because who would’ve thought that pregnancy would be this exhausting – and well, of course, a long time before this, Hannibal knew that even pregnancy _wouldn’t_ stop him from being a little. Since the beginning, Will had been a patient Daddy for him, took care of each one of his needs, and made sure he had been comfortable to finally have his own baby ( _their own baby,_ Hannibal argued) because Will aware it could overwhelm him to be pregnant and not only that but littles were known by their carelessness, too. Thankfully, Will had been there, true to his words. Reachable when Hannibal needed him, needed his Daddy. 

Usually when Hannibal wanted to switch into little space, he just simply did, and Will would know right away, picking up from the pouts and fussy whining on the back of his sweetheart’s throat, as Will carefully changed Hannibal into his favorite silk pajamas, the one with the detailed embroidery of his name on the left chest.

But it’s been a while since the last time he had become a little.

He has endured it for quite a while until it has become unbearable. Like a pain demanding to be treated, as his eyes redden, tears filling up his eyes as he bites his bottom lip out of frustration. Hannibal wants to scream, stomps on the floor until he falls on his bottom. His gaze flickers, averted away from the kitchen counter, fingers tapping impatiently on top of his extended stomach. 

Currently, Hannibal is preparing for his fifth snack of the day. The appetite of a pregnant man who’s in his second trimester is no joke, Hannibal finds. 

There is so little food left in the fridge but it’ll do, he silently mulls over the thought as he closes the fridge with a thud, and reaches out for the strawberry jam he had made by himself; because Big Hannibal is very mindful of what he’s putting in his stomach. 

Over a minute ago, he was craving something sweet, and a little bit sour – he was thinking about strawberry yogurt. Until suddenly the need of being a little takes over, clawing inside his chest. Without his notice, the pressure he has had put him into the condition where he’s slipping in and out of little space. He makes his sandwich while on the verge of being a little, tongue poking out between his lips in form of concentration, whining when some of the jam spills on his palm and making its way onto the counter. When Hannibal realizes his mistake, he blinks the haze away promptly and sighs heavily.

Feeling exasperated and tired, Hannibal leaves the half-prepared food on the kitchen counter, despite the fact that his belly is growling, demanding for food, and then heads for the playroom.

Hannibal doesn’t change into his soft clothes, despite his Big clothes now feeling too itchy, sticking and scraping his skin in a very uncomfortable way. Instead, he makes his way to the bed and curls – whining again, when he finds that his large stomach has prevented him from doing that. So, he settles on sitting on the middle of the bed with the blanket thrown over his shoulders, hugging him loosely as he falls deeper into the little space.

 _Daddy isn’t here,_ Hannibal thinks sullenly. 

He is upset.

He _is_ upset, and he needs his Daddy.

But Hannibal stays patient. He keeps repeating the mantra his Daddy had taught him a while ago, when he had woken up to an empty bed, thinking his Daddy had left him.

It feels like hours – even _years!;_ the little sound in his mind supplies – when finally the sound of keys, jiggling, dancing, and smashing into each other, followed by the screeching sound of the front door being opened enters his ears, startling him.

To his greatest relief, soon enough, Will’s voice is heard from the living room, echoing to the hallway, reaching until to the playroom. “Hannibal? Sweetheart?”

Will frowns when he’s met with nothing. 

Only silence filling the room as he toes off his shoes. Will walks warily inside with such careful steps, his guard up, as he takes in the condition of the house, in case an intruder is hiding behind secret places around the house. But Will finds it too eerie; the house is far away from the crowd, anyway. The likeliness of them being robbed is so little, almost close to impossible. 

(It’s not like they have something _that_ valuable.)

Before, they had agreed to find somewhere far away from the crowd, because less attention is better, Hannibal said. Especially with Hannibal’s habit of switching into little space, it would be much better for both of them to be far away from having loud and abrasive neighbors surrounding them. They would get much more time for themselves anyway, Hannibal added, with a secretive smile on his face. At that flash of memories, Will lets out a soft fond smile as he crosses out the ill thought. So, Will decides to peek into each room and starts searching for his sweetheart.

On the other hand, Hannibal is so close to breaking into full-blown tears. He wants to get up and run towards the sound but the heavy weight settled on his belly won’t let him move. Hell, Hannibal can barely hold his balance when he stands up.

“Hannibal?”

A low whine emits from his throat.

He tries not to break down at the sound of his Daddy but fails terribly as he wipes away the fat tears streaming down his cheeks. It feels as if his weight has fallen upon him in a very sudden motion, unanticipated, breaking the dam full of his tears. 

“Daddy,” Hannibal calls weakly, low in his throat, trying his best to be louder but he only meets with a hard unexpected hiccup coming from his throat.

It takes Will quite a bit until he catches the hiccups of his sweetheart, who turns out is hiding in the playroom. Will is fast on his feet, emerging to the room and heading to Hannibal once he spots him in the bed. “Hey, sweetheart,” he climbs into the bed and engulfs him into an embrace as soon as Will gets his arms around his very pregnant husband. “Oh, you poor thing... What happened? Why didn’t you call Daddy?”

“Dunno how to call… Too little...”

That makes sense, Will thinks as he presses his lips into a tight line. Thinking about how long his sweetheart has been enduring the urge to be a little; how much _pressure_ Hannibal had gone through that he had let himself regress this young.

Offering a kind smile, Will asks. “How long have you been in here?”

 _“Hours!”_ Hannibal blurts out, fresh tears flowing down as he sobs on his Daddy’s clothes, feet on his lap, and face hidden on his shoulder.

Will doesn’t know if he is saying the truth or not because little Hannibal’s sense of time is awry. Once he had asked Will to help him bake cookies and he had mistaken for 60 seconds with 60 minutes. But, either way, it must be painful for Hannibal, so Will keeps giving him back rubs and kisses on his wet cheeks as he whispers his regrets to his beloved. 

“My poor baby,” Will coos. “Daddy’s so sorry,”

“No leavin’ Hanni again!”

This time it comes out muffled since Hannibal has his face pressed against his Daddy's neck, on the junction between where Will’s shoulder meets his neck.

“Okay, sugar,” Will replies, continuing to rub his back.

They stay like that for quite some times, until Hannibal fusses about his toes feeling tingly and legs become unbearably uncomfy, that Will finally had to carefully and slowly maneuver his husband so he sits next to him, legs laid straight on the bed to avoid getting his blood circulation being cut off again, and Hannibal’s head resting on his shoulder; so he leans on Will sideways. 

“Do you want to change into your nightgown?”

Hannibal nods, weakly. “Yes, Daddy.”

After realizing that Hannibal’s six-month baby bump wasn’t going to fit when he changed into his usual pajamas shirt, they had settled on having a nightgown for him, a silk one – of course, after discussing with Big Hannibal. It feels different wearing that, now that Hannibal doesn’t wear pants that go around his calf, wrapping his legs, _suffocating_ him. 

A _good_ kind of different, he added. 

With one hand around Hannibal’s waist and the other hand holding his both hands, Will helps him to get on his feet, so he can change Hannibal into his silk nightgown. But it only lasts for only two minutes because Hannibal gets fussy (“ _Ma_ feet hurts, Daddy. Hanni _tired, don’_ want to keep standing!”) followed with wobbling lips, close to crying again so Will changes him promptly and then sits him down on the edge of the bed.

Last but not least, Will kisses his forehead lovingly.

They fall into the silence, again, with Hannibal leaning on Will’s shoulder, almost dozing off until suddenly a gasp is heard.

“Daddy! ’s kickin’!” Hannibal shrieks, panicked, grasping Will’s hand tightly as the other points out to the protruding belly. “What happened? Baby okay?”

Will lands a palm on Hannibal’s belly and grins as soon as he feels it. The excited thump from the baby, hitting right on the center of his open palm. “She is okay, darling. Perhaps, she’s just happy.”

 _She,_ as the doctor had said months ago after he revealed the gender to both Hannibal and Will, is a very impatient and enthusiastic little creature. To Will personally, he doesn’t care if they know the gender after the birth happened, but Hannibal had been curious; blurting out the word _“yes!”_ a little too fast, excitement lingered off the next word (“I mean, yes, that would be amazing,”) although a bit dampened and hidden, words murmured silently, scared that he would let his emotion drive him off again just like what had happened the past few months.

“Happy?” Hannibal tilts his head. “Why?”

“Because she missed me. Like you missed me.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Then just like that, Hannibal gives a firm nod, taking the answer seriously as he chews his bottom lip between his teeth, which Will has to pull away softly before he ends up hurting it. 

He did miss his Daddy. 

It feels like he hasn’t seen him for so long. 

But he knew that it is because of the baby inside him; because Big Hannibal is much more needed than little Hannibal to take care of the baby. And Big Hannibal knows _how_ and what to do when he craves sweet foods.

Humming, Hannibal gives a sad smile, shoulders slumping. “Uh-huh, yes. I do miss you, Daddy.”

“I know, baby.” He answers, chest filled with so much emotion; too much he could not pick apart which is which.

Leaning down, Will plants a kiss, pressing his lips tenderly to the swell of Hannibal’s belly. It amuses Hannibal how his Daddy loves to give his big belly lots of kisses, sometimes he almost thinks his Daddy only loves him for his belly which is very silly. 

“Daddy?” he speaks up.

“Hmm,” Will answer, now, he has half of his face pressed against the bump. It smells like baby powder and childhood dreams, he finds. While Hannibal cards his fingers through his Daddy’s hair, feeling each strand struggling and making its way past his fingers. “Yes, baby?”

“Could you please tell me that story again?” He asks shyly.

“Which one?”

“The baby one!” 

Will raises his eyebrows.

“About this baby?” he presses a kiss on top of Hannibal’s belly again, grinning ear to ear when his sweetheart giggles. Then he straightens up and continues, a teasing smile appears on his face. “Or... _this_ baby?” Will surprises Hannibal with tickles on his sides, being very mindful with the bump, as he keeps one hand behind his husband, in case he loses his balance.

A jolt, followed by a shriek of happiness soon is heard, as Hannibal tries to get away from Will’s playful fingers. 

“Daddy! _Tickles!”_

“Yes,” Will affirms, amusement clears on his tone. “I am giving you tickles, sweetheart,” he pauses to smoothen the wrinkle sides of the nightgown with his palm, which emits more giggles out of his sweetheart.

“No, Daddy. It _tickles!”_ Hannibal pouts but softens immediately when Will wraps his arms around him once again. Then, once Hannibal has his breath sorted out, he looks up, eyes glimmering, in a way where they always do when Hannibal wants something. “Story, Daddy? Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he answers. 

“Hanni _is_ a nice boy.”

Grinning proudly, Will replies. “Yes, you are, sugar,”

For the last couple of months, Hannibal had been asking to be told about the same story over and over again, about how he could have a baby _in_ his belly. Well, it isn’t like Will told him the _whole story._

Will knows he has to leave the explicit details.

Of how Hannibal writhed on the bed, begging to be filled as he spread his legs wider than he usually did. Of how Will had to wrap his fingers around his husband’s lovely hard and red cock, spilling white cum on the head, trying to keep him hard and on edge, because he wouldn’t want Hannibal to cum first as Will slammed his hips down, trying to reach deeper each time he impaled his cock in Hannibal. Or, how Hannibal arched his back so beautifully as a painting belongs in the museum, carved by the Botticelli himself; painted in a thin layer of sweat as his mewl turned breathy, and high-pitch, drawn long when Will had filled him to the brim.

What Will does is mostly answering Hannibal’s questions so it isn’t considered as telling a _story,_ just like what Hannibal always mentioned.

Usually, Hannibal would ask questions – because his baby loves asking questions – and Will would provide the answers, as he gave belly rubs, or smooth and light strokes on his head until it lulled him into sleep. Will loved answering the questions since they always variate every time, depending on how creative little Hannibal would get, and also because it calmed his mind in a way he could not explain.

The most important thing is that it helps both of them to reach the same goal; to soothe and ease each other.

“Let’s settle on the bed, baby,”

Obediently, Hannibal follows his Daddy to the center of the bed. He purrs low on the back of his throat, content, when his Daddy sits behind him, back to the bed frame.

“Come on, come on, Daddy,” Hannibal presses, becoming more impatient each second.

“Alright, alright,” Will has to hold him down by the shoulder so Hannibal won’t harm himself in the process. “So, you do know that when Big boys are able to get pregnant right?”

_“Big Hanni!”_

“Exactly, just like Big Hannibal,” Will tickles his side lightly, enough to make him curl away, giggling. 

“What happened to Big Hanni, Daddy?”

“I put a baby in his belly.”

Hannibal gasps silently, awed. “How?”

“You remember when Daddy said that Daddy loves you, right?” Will boops his husband’s nose with the tip of his index finger, earning a small elated yelp as Hannibal catches the finger in both hands. “Daddy also loves Big Hannibal.”

“Daddy loves little _and_ Big Hannibal!”

“Yes, smart boy,” he gives Hannibal a peck on the cheek and continues, pressing his chest to Hannibal’s back as he plants a kiss on the skin of his shoulder. “Because of that, Daddy put the baby in you, because we love each other; we made this.”

“... ’s weird, _tho’,”_ Hannibal pouts, two of his palms spread open on the extended belly as if he’s trying to cover it up. “Baby’s kickin’ ‘nd Hanni hungry _a—ll the time!”_

“Well, yes, that is one of the many things you will get when you’re pregnant with a baby.” He chuckles, tucking a hair behind his husband’s ear.

It never ceases to amuse Will to see the reaction of his sweetheart every time he asks these questions. The pouts, frown between his eyebrows as he tenderly pokes his belly with his index fingers as if the baby will swallow his hand if he gets too close, or touches too long.

“Sleepy, too,”

“Hmm... you’re sleepy, now, sweetheart?”

Hannibal only nods, quietly moves away from his Daddy’s embrace and warm chest to lay on the bed, huffing as he settles on his side. From what Will sees, Hannibal is seemingly much better now, his tears had dried away, replaced with a loose and tired smile on his face. With more ease, Will follows by putting a small pillow beneath Hannibal’s stomach to prevent him from getting uneasy during his sleep before finally laying down on his side, mirroring his husband, and slipping himself right behind him.

Although it is pretty much uncomfortable to sleep in his dress shirt, clothes clinging onto his skin, Will is quite sure he can bear with it. At least until Hannibal is asleep. Chest to back, Will leans forward to plant a kiss on Hannibal’s nape, one arm circles around his protruding stomach to give him more rubs, smiling when he purrs in response.

Before he follows his sweetheart to the dreamland, a tender voice speaks up quietly, “thank you.”

Turns out the voice was from his husband, muttering in his sleep, perhaps half-awake, who tries to not fully slip into unconsciousness, holding onto the edge as he mumbled those words; layered in his _Hanni’s_ softness, but has the sincerity and seriousness of Big Hannibal.

“You are very welcome, baby,” Will replies, nose nudging lightly on his nape. “Now sleep.”

And just like that, basking in each other’s warmth, tucked under the soft blanket, Hannibal falls asleep.


End file.
